In a bar not too far off the road, a man walks in. his boots clattering on the wooden floor. The bar is noticeably empty with only a few guys still around either drinking or chatting. Not too surprising since it is already the evening and they probably went home. The smell of smoke and liquor still hangs in the air like a fly caught in a web. The man in the trench coat pulls himself on a stool near the counter. His face covered by a bandanna and the brim of his hat obscuring the view of his eyes. The bartender, who had been cleaning a beer glass, looks up.

Trapped in a dream, chained by a net of magic, Deneus Betherim, arch mage of Cormalth bleeds magical essence from his fingers, fueling a rift in the fabric of existence; an essence conduit to the realm of elemental earth.

Earth, sand, mud, rocks and clay travel through the rift, and a mountain is being born beneath the feet of the ensorcelled conjuror.

Deneus is the blood of the mountain, fueling the portal, but who is the mastermind behind it all?

Two Noble Kinsmen, Two Fair Maidens, Two Mischevious Servants, Two Loyal Handmaids, Two Pompous Dukes, a Clown, a Lion, and a bunch of foolish soldiers, all wandering in the forest. Why, it’s practically Shakespeare!

Deep beneath the central tower laid the chambers of the Arcane. This is where the mages, witches and warlocks place those creations they deem to dangerous. The crystal bell Ã?Â Beloth Ã?Â was such a creation. Shortly after it was created by Magnus of Cormalth, it got into the hands of a cunning mercenary captain known as Harlan Marcus. Let’s shorten the tale and just say that the mages in the college valley did not like to have Harlan and his men roaming about the valley, helping themselves to the mages valuables. The bell rendered the college magic useless, and the mages locked themselves in, awaiting Harlan, armed with brooms, pottery and kitchen utensils.

The bell was later recovered, together with Harlan himself, and both were locked away in the chambers of the arcane.

The mentor of one or more (lawfully-inclined, socially ambitious) PCs is vulnerable because of a past action Ã¢â?¬â?? an action that was justifiable at the time. But opponents can now use changing circumstances or new information to discredit or destroy the mentor and damage the PC. The mentor is unwilling/unable either to respond or escape the consequences. The PCs can take action, but not in the open; ‘kill the monsters’ is not likely to solve the problem. Failing to act will doom the mentor and damage the PC; taking action may also doom the PC.

The PCs enter a dilapidated old town where murders occur without provocation by men nearly gone insane, they meet a mysterious stranger, people on watch fall asleep quickly, and for the love of (Insert deity here) can’t get a decent night’s sleep (That is, they sleep, but don’t really feel rested at all).

The crown of King Lorin has been stolen! Upon leaving the city the players are searched and the crown is found in their possession. They plead their innocence and are given a task, that task leads to another, and to another?

Old swords, ancient kings, and forgotten cities. Once the greatest city in the land, now guarded by darkness and death. Akibara was one of the hubs of the east, gateway to the sea, entrance to the lands. Now it lies amid a forgotten desert of ruin and death.

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Man-Eating Grapes!

A wild species, vinus homophagus, more akin to sea-grape rather than the terrestrial variety, is not a monster despite its fanciful name. The grapes, a deep purple color when in bloom, and oozing dewdrops of perspiration, like the most prized and delectable of drinking wine grapes, do however deserve their moniker. Wine made from this fruit, is deadly to most humanoids, as is the raw berry, if plucked and eaten from the vine. It is the unnatural chemical concoction found within the fruit’s tart skin, which gives the man-eating grape its name. The chemical stew found inside each berry, functions as a necrotic agent, the same as found in some species of venomous snakes. The grapes literally eat the victim from the inside out, via cell death, dissolving organs and flesh in quick succession.

The tribes of Pra-Oohk Crater, from the jungles of Ghlush are known to sell the fermented “wine” of this grape to merchants of distant lands. Sadly, the taste of the concoction is divine when first quaffed, and even worse, the man-eating grape wine will never detect as poisonous via mundane means, its horrid natures somehow masking all attempts. Luckily the man-eating grapes are extremely rare, and endemic to humid jungles.